So okay, there are just a couple of teensy things that your big sistaz here at DISGRASIAN have to say (if we may):

First of all, we can’t condone crime, baby. That shit is not good for our collective AZN rep. Stealing is especially frowned upon (unless it’s of the spotlight, the glory, or some dirty bitch’s boyfriend) because it reads as really desperate, sad behavior. Our peeps—we aren’t desperate! We shouldn’t steal stuff cuz we should have stuff. We don’t need stuff, we’ve got good stuff. And if we want more stuff, we just do reallyreallyreally well at something and get a bunch of money and then buy that stuff. Know what we mean?

Secondly, bravo on turning yourself in. That shows a bit of penance, or at least the smarts to build leverage before you and your buddies get threatened with prison time and beaten and forced to narc like crazy on each other until y’all are facing life without the possibility of parole or something. Did your parents make you hand yourself over to the fuzz? Wait–do your parents EVEN KNOW YOU [ALLEGEDLY] ROBBED A COUPLE OF CELEBRITIES YET?!? Or do they think you’re off at college or something and just not returning phone calls about your grades? If not, whoa, sister. We don’t know you, but our spare room is open if you get released and need to hide/crash somewhere for the rest of your life. Shit.

At some point during this recent long holiday weekend, in-between turkey helpings and wine guzzling and coming to the sobering realization that Thanksgiving dinner gives you epically grotesque, gladiator-strength gas, you may have logged onto the interwebz and discovered that Michael Phelps has a new girlfriend, whom he took home this past weekend to meet the fam. Her name is Caroline “Caz” Pal, she hails from Long Beach, and she’s a Vegas cocktail waitress at the Moon nightclub at the Palms. People in the blogosphere have been bitchily calling her Phelps’s “slutty girlfriend”, a “stripper” and a “skank,” and we’re probably expected to pile on like Caz’s girlfriends did to her in this picture taken from a certain “Beverly Hills Pimps and Ho’s” party…

But we’re here to make the case for Caz. Because dating an Olympian has got to do a number on a person’s self-esteem, especially dating one like Phelps, who has more gold medals than Zeus and is, like, the greatest everrrrrrr. Besides, the poor thing had to meet his smother, er, mother Debbie, this weekend, and that must have been harrowing, because you know Mama Phelps is super-protective of her ever-so-talented cub.

And, look, Caz has talents too (get your mind out of the gutter)! If you flip through her modeling portfolio, which was posted on TMZ and Just Jared, you see a woman of diverse interests, an appreciator of the finer things, a polymath after our own hearts. She’s not just a cocktail waitress. She’s…

…a Deaf Signer!

…and an Art Lover!

…a Juggler!

…a woman with an Inimitably Quirky Sense of Style!

…not to mention, Ambidextrous!

And let’s not forget. She still has to blow this butterhead about 12 times a day (after every one of his meals):

So instead of slagging her for being a dumb trashy ho, we should really be giving her props for yet another talent–controlling a monster gag-reflex.

[For those of you wondering what Caz's ethnicity is--we can't say for sure. But based on her surname and Diana's "Jungle Asian Eagle Eye," we'd venture to guess Cambodian.]

And we can’t think of a better use of Palin’s talents! Especially after the last few weeks, when the VP-wannabe has demonstrated all too well that she can get down and dirty. Plus, Palin is hot, and we think she’d look smoking in a latex dress, despite her aversion to rubbers.

Listen guys… we’ve cracked on Tila Tequila too long. Let’s give her some credit, okay? She’s a self-starter, an entrepreneur, a rags-to-riches story that in many ways can be admired. Maybe she’s the paparazzi fruit that the Times should be calling a “feminist hero.” And maybe she’s smarter than she’s sold herself to be. Most importantly, guys, I think she’s gotten SERIOUS.

“Serious,” as evidenced by her new track, a softer ballad (with nary a booty club mix in sight) called “Paralyze.”

Many of us live in Los Angeles, and have the unfortunate here-and-there sighting/smell of celebutard pioneer Paris Hilton. As US Weekly often declares with glee, she pumps her fuel-guzzling Bentley with gas (“just like US!”), she lets her dog shit on the street (“just like US!”), she does her own grocery shopping wearing ugly $300 sweats that are falling off her cheesy, shapeless ass (“just like US!”), and ZzZZZZZzzzzz.

Breeze? What breeze?

Frankly, I blame Paris Hilton alone for the “sexy”-and-ugly- sweatoutfits-as-real-outfits epidemic that has spread through America’s young women over the last five years faster than a case of clap at a frat party. It’s slutty AND sloppy, and, contrary to my earliest predictions, doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. Maybe it never will! Augh… the very thought of this scares me more than hippies, let me tell you.

So when Hilton showed up in Shanghai for an MTV event this week, wearing her comfy clothes but remaining completely covered, I thought to myself: Self, maybe Paris Hilton is starting to take responsibility for the sloppy/slutty thing. Maybe she’s making an example of dressing drown without showing one’s dime slot!

But as I began to look closer at some of the other Paris-in-China, her long face struck me:

…as did her “Grammy feels like speedwalking today!” shoes:

…and I realized, Hilton isn’t through rocking the slutsuit. She just doesn’t give a shit about how she looks in China!!! And I said to myself: Self, if this bitch is gonna rock “comfy” looking like a ho for the paps in America/Greece/Italy/France/Spain, she sure as hell better do the same in the land of the almond-eyed! Are you with me, Self! We aren’t gonna take this sitting down!!! Give us all the slut you’ve got or give us nothing at all!